


snowballs and cocoa

by witchlight



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Always, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, Multi, Nonbinary Jehan, One Royal Holiday reference because i can, Other, Secret Santa, gift fic!, holiday party, just dumb holiday shenanigans, merry christmas ily, minimal plot, tagging is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28321143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchlight/pseuds/witchlight
Summary: In which Enjolras can't bake, Gavroche causes problems on purpose, and Courfeyrac is fed up.
Relationships: Bahorel/Feuilly (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	snowballs and cocoa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeLibre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeLibre/gifts).



> merry christmas! writer's block is evil, but i think this turned out vaguely okay. i love you jennah, enjoy <3

“Courf!” Enjolras slams the door behind him as he steps inside, removing a suspiciously snowy red knitted hat and shaking it off with an air of disgruntlement. “That wasn’t fair!”

Courfeyrac sticks his head into the hallway and flashes him a cheerful grin. “What did I do?”

“I - you dropped a snowball on my head from your balcony! How the hell did you even pull that off?”

“I did no such thing,” Courfeyrac says primly, the picture of innocence.

Enjolras flicks a last bit of unmelted snow in Courfeyrac’s general direction and hangs his jacket by the door. “I show up early to help set up your Christmas party and this is the thanks I get?”

“Non-denominational observance of winter holidays and festivities party,” Combeferre corrects. He manages to keep a straight face, too, at least until his boyfriend cracks and starts laughing and then all three of them have to take a minute to regain their composure.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s apartment is already pretty thoroughly decorated. There are colorful lights strung up along the windows (precariously held up with blue masking tape at strategic intervals). Some mistletoe affixed above the entrance to the kitchen receives a skeptical look. A tiny fir tree worthy of Charlie Brown with a few shiny ornaments dangling from its branches sits in a plant pot in the corner, a couple of festively wrapped presents already arranged in its general vicinity. Enjolras takes the hint and walks over to add his contribution for the annual Secret Non-Denominational Holiday Entity Gift Exchange. They desperately need a better name or a catchy acronym or something for that. He says so every year. It hasn’t happened yet.

He takes the other item out of his bag while he’s at it and holds it up, a nicely decorated tin of cookies. “Where do you want these?”

“I can take them! Oh my god, did you finally learn how to bake?” Courfeyrac sounds delighted. He opens the lid curiously and then gives Enjolras a lovingly exasperated look. “These are just store bought cookies in a nicer package.”

“They’re just store bought cookies in a nicer package,” he admits, rubbing his face. “I tried, I swear, but they got burnt. Again. I don’t get it.”

“You’ll get the hang of it someday,” Combeferre says sympathetically.

* * *

Soon enough, more of their friend group starts to arrive. Bahorel gets there next, dressed in an overly colorful sweater with the words PÈRE NO _ RËL _ emblazoned on it in bright green, and tosses a very nicely wrapped package across the room in the vague direction of the tree. Combeferre makes an impressive dive across the room and barely manages to catch it before it hits the ground. Courfeyrac applauds.

“ _ Nice, _ ” Bahorel says approvingly. “Feuilly said to tell you guys that he’s gonna come over as soon as he’s off of work.”

“Sounds good,” Courfeyrac says brightly.

The others trickle in in succession after that. Enjolras has somehow ended up as the designated door-opener, so he situates himself on the arm of the couch and gets up to greet his friends as they arrive.

Grantaire shows up only a few minutes late to the official start time, and Enjolras pauses for a second when he opens the door and they come face to face. He smiles. “...Good evening.”

“Hi,” Grantaire says with a wry grin back at him. Their hands brush on the doorframe as Grantaire moves in to set his things down. Neither of them comment.

Feuilly, the last of the group to get there, arrives just in time to witness Gavroche scoop up a handful of snow off of the balcony railing and throw it directly at Jehan’s mildly terrifying boyfriend.

There’s a moment of silence where everyone glances around apprehensively at each other, and then Éponine snorts and says, “Look, he snuck up on you, that’s your own fault. Nice one, kid.”

Montparnasse brushes a bit of snow off his shirt, gives her a withering look, and then actually  _ laughs. _ “I suppose.”

No one really seems to know how to respond to that (aside from Jehan, who looks thrilled and springs up to give their boyfriend a kiss), and after a moment everyone picks up the threads of their previous conversation and the room is filled with laughter once more.

They make it a surprisingly long amount of time before Gavroche gets fed up and starts gathering up presents to distribute to their recipients around the room. It is quite difficult to say no to a child who is eager to open gifts, and besides, it’s hardly as though any of them are opposed to the idea. Enjolras finds himself with a vaguely squishy wrapped package and carefully opens it to discover a beautifully knitted red sweater. He smiles in delight and pulls it over his head -  _ wow _ , that is soft - and glances around the room to find Jehan looking at him with a hopeful smile. He grins and calls out, “I love it!” They beam at him.

He smiles a little wider and looks away, his gaze surreptitiously moving to Grantaire, who has just been excitedly handed a box by Gavroche. Enjolras hadn’t been certain of what to get when he had first drawn Grantaire’s name out of the hat for the present exchange, and he crosses his fingers now that he had made a suitable choice.

Grantaire unwraps the set of paints that Enjolras has selected and his face lights up. Enjolras breathes a sigh of relief and looks away before he can be caught staring, still grinning. Good.

* * *

At some point, someone puts on a cheesy Hallmark movie in the background and the group settles down around the room in clusters to chat and poke fun at the magic of Christmas. A few minutes in, Grantaire idly waves his champagne flute of sparkling cider at the screen. “Am I the only one seeing a serious resemblance between Enj and this dude?”

Enjolras makes an affronted noise and sits up to glare more effectively. “Excuse me? Are we watching the same thing? You’re trying to compare me to a  _ prince _ ?”

“I just meant in looks!” Grantaire protests, though he looks rather pleased with himself.

“I don’t care if we have the same side profile, he’s actively upholding a monarchy!” He wrinkles his nose. “And he’s straight. I don’t know where on earth you’re getting this from.”

“Heteronormativity! Bisexual erasure! He can flirt with a woman and still be queer!” Grantaire points an accusing finger at Enjolras, who has the decency to look at least a little ashamed of himself for that one. “You wound me, your highness. How dare you.”

“You are absolutely not allowed to start calling me that - ”

Across the room, Marius has managed to stop staring into Cosette’s eyes for long enough to look over at the two of them with wide eyes. “Oh my god, Enjolras, you aren’t straight? Congratulations!”

Enjolras buries his face in his hands. Grantaire chokes on a sip of apple cider. Joly looks rather concerned and starts to get up, but lets Musichetta and Bossuet pull him back down after Grantaire waves them off, still spluttering a little.

They make it almost a full two minutes further into the movie before Grantaire glances over again with a sly grin and says, “You have to admit you would make a decent prince, though.”

“You have  _ got _ to be kidding me.”

“Oh my god, I can’t keep doing this,” Courfeyrac says under his breath, burying his face in Combeferre’s shoulder.

Combeferre runs his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair gently. “Doing what, exactly?”

He looks up and directs an accusing glare at Enjolras and Grantaire, who have gotten much closer to each other and seem to be having an animated discussion about the ethical implications of romanticizing royal titles. “ _ That _ . Look at them. How have they not gotten over themselves yet?” He pauses, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “...We need to do something about it, ‘Ferre.”

“Or we could let them work out their relationship on their own, like adults,” he says, but he relents when Courfeyrac gives him an overly sincere look. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

* * *

“They really aren’t subtle, are they,” Grantaire says dryly when he steps into the kitchen a few minutes later.

Enjolras blinks and looks up from the mug of hot cocoa and marshmallows that he is currently stirring. “What are you talking about?”

“Courf sent you over here, didn’t he?” Grantaire waits for Enjolras to nod warily before looking up pointedly at a spot above their heads. Enjolras follows his gaze and then makes a sound of utter exasperation when he notices a conveniently placed sprig of mistletoe taped to the kitchen light. “Yeah, now you’re getting it.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry about them,” Enjolras says, shaking his head and taking a sip of his cocoa. Which is still too hot. He makes a face.

Grantaire shrugs and says, “Hey, it’s whatever, they’re having a good time, right? We don’t have to do anything if - ”

Enjolras hesitates for a moment and then cuts in. “Might as well give them something else to think about,” he says, and when Grantaire gives him a curious look he simply leans in and kisses him.

There’s a collective moment of silence from the main room, and then -

“No way, it can’t be that easy,” Courfeyrac says accusingly. “I mean, congratulations! But what are you doing.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re implying,” Enjolras says, putting his arm around Grantaire’s shoulders as if it is the most natural thing in the world. His attempt at being stoic is ruined when Grantaire starts laughing a moment later and he does as well, but he catches his breath and looks up with a softer smile. “...Yeah, no, we’re dating.”

“ _ What?! _ ”

Combeferre looks just as startled, but he takes Courfeyrac’s arm before his boyfriend can collapse from shock and beams. “Well then!”

“How long has this been going on for?” Courfeyrac demands.

Grantaire’s smile widens. “Oh, a couple weeks now?”

“Holy shit! Why didn’t you tell us!” Courfeyrac looks thrilled, at least until a dawning realization passes over him. “Wait. Oh my god. Oh no. Does that mean you’re  _ always _ going to be like this?”


End file.
